Joshua Keiter

Everyone seemed to be 
on their porch or yard 

or retrieving or collecting 
things to or from their cars 

kids fell down in the grass 
dogs passed each other 

sniffing for places they’ve been 
it’s not like we need 

an especially warm day 
to bring us all outside 

at once but obviously 
it helps to know that surely 

this is the only day we have 
for when we look inside 

there’s nothing to be found 
at least nothing is as

we expected it to be.

Adjusting to the fact 
of sickness 

keeps a certain rhythm 
namely 

it’s easier to just 
forget bedtime 

as a construct and
start sleeping 

as fast as you can 
and then 

when you’ve slept 
awhile enough 

go ahead and sleep
some more 

surely the next day
will wake you 

somehow.

I don’t know
if we know
what human bodies 

require anymore
when solitude 
reaches its limit 

and noise persists 
just outside of 
the frame but 

if chord changes 
and turns of phrase 
are to be trusted 

then I am content 
to rest my head
slightly next to yours 

as we sway 
and the lights 
and the smoke 

carry it all away.

Today a dandelion
peeked in between 
the pavement and brick wall 

as if to announce 
to anyone who will notice 
the arrival of spring 

a few yards away 
they were already cutting 
the grass using tools 

that run on fossils 
buried far underground 
that if we spend unchecked 

may one day blot out the sun 
I took a picture 
of the dandelion to remind 

us of what was as sure 
as it appeared before 
vanishing like the rest 

of the known universe.

Ever since my dreams returned 
I have had the chance to revisit 

so many friends from long ago—
just last night he performed the play 

again, after an extended hiatus
in an imagined theatre, even though 

I doubt he’ll restage the role 
for any audience again, but for me 

it was enough to see him and know 
he is well, that we two still stand 

on a revolving planet that circles the sun
and walk on an early spring afternoon 

to where the books and buffalo chicken strips 
are still plentiful, and we’ll talk 

about all the projects to come, even the ones 
we only give names to in our dreams.

Strange now to think 
that what we think of as now
will be part one day
of the distant past

just as what is now 
the distant past was once 
the present day 
and what was their future 

is now a tiny sliver 
of the vast expanse of history 
as if history could be 
something definable 

a monolith materializing 
as we play with bones 
or fight over water 
the sun has only so many 

years left in its cycle 
then they say it will blow apart 
to be reconstituted by our so called 
ancestors in the future

When I lost you I didn’t think 
there was any way I could be found again 

as if the concept of found itself was lost 
abolished, scattered to the four directions 

until they discovered the fifth dimension 
which itself was promptly lost in a puff of logic.

It’s not that there was no day or night 
but the gloaming felt more or less like homecoming 

like winter would at last last forever for starters 
and the trees gathered bare as twigs for the fire.

When I lost you I knew I would never see you again.
And now that I haven’t, and you’re here 

we can pick up right where we once left off
which was I suppose like counting the minutes 

until they counted for nought, for love 
for now that I have found you I won’t ever let you go.

This morning I dreamed
as I began to waken
or I awoke as I began 
to dream, that life 
was ending, specifically 
my consciousness breaking
apart into tiny bubbles
before my eyes, and all
I could think to think was 
Is that all? I didn’t want 
it to be ending, and so soon
It wasn’t dramatic, a return 
from the precipice of tunnel 
towards a clear light, and 
then turning back again because 
it wasn’t my time, but even 
if as the tiny bubbles dissipate
when they actually appear
awake or in a dream
I’m still convinced that we 
have nothing to be afraid of 
even if I choked myself awake 
grateful to have this day 
happy it is not yet the end.

I’ve decided 
not to look for metaphors
anymore

even when they’re obvious.
Instead, I choose
to be conscious of the things

that pass
before my eyes and ears.
Such as

the moon rising beside a tree
as I walked 
and took a seat at the musical 

the opening number 
of which moved me so much 
I cried

completely, long before 
the catastrophe 
that wasn’t yet part of the story.

On my walk today
just around the block

I saw blossoms
just starting to bloom

Two friends who might
have been brothers or twins

A man in a car asked 
for directions to the theatre 

A woman smiled at me
as I smiled at her

A child spun in circles 
waiting her turn with a scooter 

And I listened to words 
and guitar wondering

for love that causes 
each step to follow another.